Collision Course to Love
by Coffee-Flavored Fate
Summary: Alfred's loved Lovino for a long, long time. It's just too bad that Lovino's going to kill him. Oneshot. Prizefic for Ayse-of-Hearts. Romerica, Alfred/Lovino


**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.**

_Here's your prize, Ayse-of-Hearts! I hope it meets your expectations. I'm not sure if it has enough fluff, but I think it has everything else you asked for. Pretty sure. If not, let me know. _

_This is my first time working from a prompt- it was kind of interesting, and a nice distraction from being disgustingly sick, although I'll admit it was a struggle to keep it a one-shot. _

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><p>Lovino was going to <em>kill<em> him.

And it wasn't even his fault! He was innocent, _innocent!_ It was bad luck, pure and simple. He'd been in the wrong place, at the wrong time- although, come to think of it, it had been the _other_ guys that had been in the wrong place at the wrong time; _he'd_ actually been driving perfectly legally.

He'd had right of way at the four-way-stop, and the roads had been clear when he'd started across— driving at the _speed limit, _mind, even though it was only _30_ miles per hour, which was _ridiculous_— when that stupid truck came tearing around the corner at 90mph and slammed into his passenger side with such force that it flipped the vehicle he was driving over and pushed it halfway across the road on its side. And _that_ had been followed a fraction of a second later by a police cruiser in hot pursuit, which had been unable to stop in time and had rammed into the rear of the truck it had been chasing, pushing him still further and effectively pinning the car he was in to a telephone pole.

Or, so he had been told, at least- the first collision had apparently put him into a temporary coma, so all he actually _remembered_ of the incident was a loud noise, a flash of pain, and darkness. The next thing he remembered after that was waking up in the hospital, wondering why he couldn't feel his face, or why he couldn't move when he tried to get up, and why _everything_ hurt.

It turned out that it was because he'd needed sixteen stitches on his face and the numbing agents hadn't yet worn off, he'd broken his collarbone, as well as his right wrist and both legs.

Which _sucked_.

But the worst part was that _apparently_ they'd had to cut him out of the car, because _apparently_ being pinned to a telephone pole inside a car which was on its side had made it impossible to get him out any other way.

The doctor had said he was lucky to be alive, let alone have escaped with 'no serious injuries'.

_Ha_.

Which showed what the doctor knew. Lucky? Ha! He might have survived the car crash, but he was still going to die, 'cause Lovino was going to _kill_ him.

_Painfully._

Even if Lovino _didn't_ kill him, his life was still _over_, because Lovino was never going to forgive him or talk to him again, and Alfred couldn't blame him. Because even though it wasn't technically his fault, he'd still managed to destroy the Giulietta. _The_ Giulietta, the fucking gorgeous little Alfa Romeo that Lovino had inherited from his _grandfather_ and that he and Lovino had spent _the last two years_ restoring. It'd been a mark of their friendship that Lovino had even let him _look_ at the car, let alone _touch_ it. And it'd been_ forever_ before Lovino had given in to his pleas to let him help restore it (and it had taken a _lot_ of pleading, coaxing and persuasion. It hadn't been _right_, that gorgeous little number going to waste and decay in storage, when a little love and attention was all it needed to bring it back to its full glory). Lovino had always intended to restore it on his own someday, but had been afraid to touch it because he was afraid to fuck up his grandpa's pride and joy; the only thing his grandpa had left him when he passed on. His only memento. Which was silly, Alfred thought- Lovino was great with cars, knew his way around them better than anyone Alfred knew, other than himself, and what better way to honour his grandfather's memory than restoring his grandfather's _bitchin'_ car?

Alfred groaned, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

He'd destroyed his friend's last memento of his grandfather. Lovino was going to _hate_ him now. And if Lovino hated him, then he was never going to see him again, or talk to him, or do _anything_ with him, again. Ever. He stared at the ceiling, the flourescent lighting harsh and uncomforting to his pain.

His. Life. Was. Officially. Over.

He knew that his dads and brother would probably say he was overreacting if they were here, but he totally wasn't, _really_. They just didn't understand! In a few brief seconds, all his hopes and dreams had been _ruined_. _Forever._

'Cause now there was no _way_ that Lovino would ever agree to be his boyfriend, ever. And if Lovino didn't even want to be his _boyfriend_, then there was no hope that they would ever get married and live out their lives together until they were old and grey, and die in each other's arms, and then go to heaven to spend eternity together— or get reincarnated together to fall in love all over again, he wasn't sure how that part worked. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to spend the rest of his life, lives and/or afterlife with Lovino.

Hell, he'd had a crush on Lovino since _kindergarten_, for fuck's sake. From the very first day, when he and Mattie were shy and awkward and a little scared, trying to adjust to their new life outside the orphanage and nervous about their first day of school. There they'd met Feliciano, who was in the same boat, he and his brother having been recently orphaned and come to America from Italy to live with his grandfather and uncles after his parents had died. The three had become fast friends before roll was even called, and when a little blond boy named Ludwig started teasing Feliciano for being 'too girly' during playtime, Alfred had come to his defense, knocking the kid into the alphabet blocks. He'd gotten a time-out for that, and no cookie during snacktime as punishment; but Feliciano had been grateful, and had told his older brother all about it when the third-grader had arrived to pick him up after school. Alfred had been in awe of the older boy, who was so much taller and tougher-looking and so _cool._ When Lovino had heard the story he'd patted him on the head and told him he was 'Okay, for a brat.', and Alfred's awe had morphed instantly into infatuation. Even his adoptive dads' scolding afterward hadn't done anything to dampen his spirits, 'cause super-awesome-and-cool _Lovino_ thought he was _'Okay'._

He'd spent that entire evening in his room, drawing the _coolest_ picture _ever_ of him and Lovino, planning to give it to the older boy the next day after school. He hoped Lovino would like it so much he'd agree to marry him, and they'd live happily ever after together forever, along with Mattie and Feliciano and his alien friend, Tony (who wasn't imaginary, no matter what the people at the orphanage said).

But then the next day when Lovino had come to pick up Feliciano, there'd been a girl with him. A very pretty little blond girl, with big green eyes, whom Feliciano had said was Lovino's girlfriend since yesterday. Alfred had looked to Lovino, hoping he'd deny it, but he'd just blushed and muttered something unintelligible, and when the girl giggled and kissed him on the cheek, Lovino hadn't protested.

Alfred hadn't had the heart to give him the picture after that.

He'd been so downhearted and unlike his cheerful self of the previous day when he'd gotten home that Arthur had asked him if these bizarre mood-swings were going to be a regular thing; but papa Francis had told the other man to lay off, since Alfred was _obviously_ suffering the effects of a broken heart. Francis had given him an extra slice of chocolate cake for dessert, which had helped, a little; and had reassured him that he'd soon find someone new, which hadn't. He didn't _want_ to find someone new. He'd already found_ Lovino_, and Lovino was the one he wanted.

He still had that picture (a crayon drawing of him and Lovino holding hands outside their future house on the moon, with Mattie and Feli and Tony nearby), folded up and hidden safely in his wallet.

Francis had been wrong, anyway. Alfred carried that torch all through kindergarten and beyond, but chances to act on it had been thwarted by the fact that Lovino was always several years ahead of him in school, and that Lovino pretty much constantly had a girlfriend. The Italian brothers were very popular with the girls, although every single one of Lovino's relationships ended the same way: the girl would eventually break up with him after a year or so, saying that he was too hard to understand.

Which made no sense to Alfred. Lovino wasn't hard to understand. He had some trouble expressing himself, true, but he was always honest about how he felt. Sometimes a little too honest, in some peoples' opinions; but that didn't bother Alfred. People said the same thing about him, too.

Not that it mattered much, 'cause Lovino barely knew he existed. It hadn't helped that the older male was so much, well, older. Everytime Alfred was starting a school, Lovino was finishing it. It was hardly conducive to the chance encounters in the halls or accidental meetings at lunchtime that Alfred fantasized would help start off their relationship (where they might casually get to talking and Lovino would realize that Alfred was his True Love and they could go steady until they'd both graduated high school and could get married. Then they could live in the dorms together while they went to college! It would be _perfect._)

And then there had come the summer that Lovino and Feliciano's grandfather had passed away. After his grandfather's death Lovino became increasingly withdrawn and difficult to handle. Out of desperation, their uncles (now their legal guardians) ended up sending him to an alternative boarding school across the country in hopes that it would help, instead of returning him to the public high school once summer ended.

Alfred learned all this from Feliciano after the fact, having spent his entire summer at an aerospace camp. Even though he'd had the time of his life at camp, he'd always regretted that he hadn't been there for the brothers when it'd happened. Matthew had been of some comfort to Feliciano, as had (somewhat surprisingly) Ludwig, with whom he'd struck up an unusual friendship that summer, but as far as he knew, no-one had been there for Lovino. He wasn't sure if he'd have been able to help, but he would have liked to have tried.

He did try to get his parents to send him to the same alternative school, even resorting to acting out a bit when they'd refused, in hopes that they'd give in and send him anyway. Instead, Francis and Arthur had contacted a couple of his mentors from camp, who'd come to visit and had a long talk with him about how bright his future was and how they expected great things from him, and that had equally shamed and encouraged him into shaping back up. So much so, in fact, that he'd ended up graduating high school two years early, and entering college just before he turned 16.

He still missed Lovino, though.

When he'd walked into his first day of engineering design class on his second day of University, and Lovino was sitting in one of the seats near the back of the room, his first thought was that he'd better pinch himself. _Hard_, because _obviously_ he was either dreaming or he'd started to hallucinate due to stress, or something. Not that he felt particularly stressed, but he was pretty sure he hadn't partaken of any hallucinagenic substances so it _had_ to be stress that was making him see Lovino where Lovino couldn't be. But then he'd pinched himself so hard he'd ended up jumping and yelping and startling most of the class, and the resulting embarrassment when everyone turned to look at him was enough to prove to him that no, he wasn't hallucinating _or_ dreaming. But the embarrassment was soon swallowed up in excitement, 'cause _Lovino was there_, and he couldn't stop himself from waving and grinning like an idiot, 'cause _Lovino_ was _back! _And in his class! Why hadn't Feliciano _told_ him?

Probably because Feliciano was kind of preoccupied with his new boyfriend- _Ludwig_, of all the strange things- he admitted to himself as he crossed the room to drop into the seat next to the long-lost object of his affections. Although he usually preferred to sit near the front of his classes, there was no fuckin' way in _hell_ he was going to let the chance to sit next to Lovino slip by. He'd been waiting for this since kindergarten!

"Hi!" He greeted excitedly as he plopped down. "I didn't know you were back! I haven't seen you in forever! When did you get back? I didn't know you were in my class! This is _great!_"

Lovino looked at him like he was crazy, and shifted away slightly in his seat. "...Do I know you?"

Alfred laughed, rubbing his head a little sheepishly. "Sort of! We used to be neighbors. Well, kind of neighbors. I mean, actually you lived halfway across town, but I used to see you sometimes when my brother and I were hanging out, or after school and stuff. Y'know, around. Ahaha."

Lovino blinked warily at him for a moment, as if he wasn't sure what to make of him, and then something seemed to click. "Oh." He nodded, relaxing a bit, and turned his attention back to the front of the class. "You're one of Feliciano's wierd little friends."

Alfred was _elated_. Lovino _remembered _him! Granted, as one of Feliciano's friends, but still! He knew he existed!

As it turned out, he and Lovino shared _three_ classes. Alfred made sure to sit next to him in every one. Lovino looked at him a little oddly at first, but otherwise didn't protest, which Alfred took as carte blanche to continue. And to propose studying together, which Lovino declined at first, but Alfred was persistent and eventually Lovino gave in. It probably helped that, contrary to many peoples' first impressions of him, Alfred was consistently top of his class. It came as no surprise to him that Lovino, after a few months' rough start and long nights of joint study sessions, became top of many of his classes as well; because as he frequently reminded the older male, Lovino could do _anything_ if he wanted.

Studying together became working on projects together, and hanging out together, until he finally got Lovino to admit (somewhat reluctantly, and with an almost unhealthy level of blushing) that they were _friends_. Which had Alfred walking on air for over a week, causing Lovino to hit him with his bookbag on several occasions out of sheer embarrassment.

Three semesters later, they were sharing nearly all their classes- mostly because Alfred had broken into Lovino's dorm room extra early on the first day of registration and dragged him out so they could sign up for all the same classes, and Lovino, surprisingly, had let him; if only because he knew by now that resistance was futile. Of course, then Lovino had dragged him out afterward and made Alfred buy him breakfast and coffee as compensation. Alfred hadn't really seen any kind of downside in that particular arrangement, but had wisely refrained from pointing that out. Plus, Lovino was really kind of super-cute when he was doling out 'retribution', so it would have been unthinkable to spoil his fun.

They'd ended up lazing around in the park after breakfast, enjoying the warmth of the Indian summer, and talking. _Really_ talking, about their hopes and dreams and plans for the future (although Alfred left out the whole 'true love, marriage, old age and afterlife of your choice' bit, 'cause he didn't want to scare Lovino off). Eventually talk had turned to the past, and Alfred had shared his experiences at the orphanage, and how for the first few months it'd been hard to believe that he and his brother had been adopted, and that they weren't going to wake up back in the orphanage at any moment. Lovino had squeezed his hand, and told him about his grandfather's death, and how he'd felt so lost and confused and angry, and didn't know what to do with all that..._stuff_, and had ended up just getting caught in a cycle of running away and lashing out, trying to figure out how and why to keep on going when everyone important to him kept going away.

Alfred had been silent for a while, and then he'd taken Lovino's hands in his, and promised him earnestly that he'd never leave Lovino, no matter what. Lovino had just stared at him for several long moments, blushed furiously, and hit him, telling him he was an idiot.

They'd ended up spending the whole day together, until long after sundown. It'd been the best day of Alfred's life, up 'til then.

The next day Lovino had had a date, and that kind of sucked —his friend was as popular with women as he'd ever been, which was _very_— but then after _that _Lovino dropped by and found him moping. He refused to explain why when Lovino asked, so his friend had just snorted, shook his head, and dragged him out to show him 'something good, bastard; you'd better be grateful I'm showing this to you'. He didn't tell Alfred _what_ they were going to see, telling him that he'd find out when they got there, dammit. Finally they'd arrived at an old shed several miles outside of town, and Lovino had undone numerous locks on the door and dragged him inside to show him his 'greatest treasure'- The Alfa Romeo Giulietta, circa nineteen-fucking-fifty-four.

Alfred had been appropriately awed, and Lovino had been gratified. He wouldn't let Alfred _touch_ it, but he did let him _look_ at it thoroughly. Although intact and gorgeous, its condition was deteriorating, mostly due to neglect. When Alfred wondered why Lovino hadn't bothered to restore it yet, Lovino had scowled, and told him it was none of his damn business.

A little while later, though, as they were walking home in relative silence, Lovino somewhat reluctantly admitted that the Giulietta was all he had left of his grandfather; and that having it made him feel like part of his grandfather was still alive. Like his grandfather wasn't really gone. He knew it wasn't right to let it decay like that, but it was just that everything he touched seemed to fall apart, and he just couldn't bring himself to take the risk that he might destroy this, too, and lose his grandfather for real.

Alfred understood that, he did- well, not the part about everything Lovino touched falling apart, 'cause that was _silly, _Lovino could do_ anything_ he wanted to, even if he couldn't see that- but not wanting to lose his last memento of his grandfather? Totally understood. But it seemed to him that just letting the car molder in the shed _was_ losing it, in a way; slowly, but surely. Losing it to rust and damp and decay; when a little care and attention would be all it would take to keep it alive indefinitely. Getting Lovino to see that, though, was the difficult part. Lovino's head understood it, but his heart was another matter entirely; and Lovino lived by his heart.

Which Alfred really couldn't complain about; it was one of the things he loved about Lovino.

Still, he worked on convincing his stubborn Italian friend, and after almost a year of coaxing and persuading, and with a little outside help from a particularly wet winter and an even more dangerously wet thaw (dangerous to cars, that is); he managed to do it. Lovino _finally_ agreed to work on restoring the Giulietta, and even agreed to let Alfred help.

And none too soon- as it turned out, the wet winter and wetter thaw had done no favours to the classic vehicle- rust had set in, and the apparently the shed had flooded at some point, because the interior and upholstery was a _mess_.

After Lovino had finished his subsequent freakout and period of depression over the state of the car, they'd gotten down to work.

First thing they'd done was find a safer place to store the car while they restored it; which was hampered a bit by the fact that Lovino refused to let _anyone_ aside from himself and Alfred even _see_ the car, let alone touch it or help move it or know about its existence; something that Alfred found exasperating, touching, and incredibly endearing all at once. Still, somehow they'd managed it, and once the car was safely stored they stripped it, cataloguing what was fine, what they could salvage, and what needed to be replaced entirely. (Lovino had gone into another funk when it'd turned out the original upholstery would have to be replaced. He'd cheered up somewhat when Alfred managed to salvage the seat upholstery- although the flooring really did have to be replaced.)

For the next two years, they worked on the Giulietta whenever they had time; after classes, between study sessions, whenever Lovino didn't have a date- but by some unspoken agreement neither of them would work on the Giulietta when the other wasn't there. It slowed things down a bit, but somehow it just...didn't seem right working on the car if they weren't doing it together (not that either of them ever mentioned that to the other.)

And as the car came together, Alfred noticed changes in his friend. When they first started, Lovino would be tense, withdrawn, whenever they worked on the car. His movements were slow, almost...reluctant, and if he spoke at all it would be in terse monosyllables. Sometimes he would just sit and hold a piece of the car in his hands for ten, fifteen minutes, or even longer; just holding it, not moving.

Once they'd removed a side-panel so they could clean it and check it for rust, and a gold foil seal from an old brand of cigars fluttered to the ground. Lovino had frozen, wide-eyed, and nearly dropped his end of the panel. Luckily Alfred had caught it and set it down safely. He'd turned around to ask what was wrong, but the question died on his lips when he saw the expression on Lovino's face as he knelt to pick up the piece of...well, what Alfred would have considered trash, but Lovino was holding it like it was something precious, and looking like he was about to break down into tears, so Alfred just went over to sit next to his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It...it was his favourite brand of cigars." Lovino said after a while, voice rough. "He...a-always smoked them. Th-they smelled like shit." He huffed a laugh, and drew his sleeve across his nose. "I hated them." He clenched the gold foil seal in his hand, and buried his face in his knees. Alfred had rubbed his back comfortingly, and Lovino had leaned into him. They sat that way for about fifteen minutes, until Lovino lifted his head, and opened his hand, staring at the seal in his palm with red-rimmed eyes. Alfred tilted his head, examining the object thoughtfully.

"You know," he offered, "we could probably make that into a killer keychain..." he trailed off, letting the question hang in the air.

Surprised, Lovino glanced at him, then frowned thoughtfully at the object he held. "That's stupid." He said after a while, in a way that Alfred had come to recognize to mean 'yes'.

"I dunno, I think it'd be kinda cool." He smiled, holding out his hand. "Lemme see?"

"Knock yourself out, bastard." Lovino said with false nonchalance, handing it over.

It _had_ made a killer keychain. Alfred had fixed it in a steel frame in metal shop, and attached a chain to it, and by the time he was done three other students in the class had tried to buy it off of him.

But as time passed, Lovino slowly seemed to relax, to become more... comfortable with the project. He no longer became morose and withdrawn when they were unable to salvage some small part, or had to replace something. He seemed almost at peace with it, somehow.

And finally they were finished, and the Giulietta stood gleaming in the light of the storage room, and the two young men stood, dishevelled, covered in grease and splotches of paint and car wax and various vehicular fluids, tired and sore but beaming ear to ear with pride and satisfaction of a job well done.

"We did it, bastard." Lovino grinned, crossing his arms.

"Yep." Alfred agreed, hands on his hips.

"You want to take her for a spin?" Lovino asked, causing Alfred's head to snap to the side to stare at him in shock.

"W-what?"

"You heard me, bastard." Lovino turned to face him, hazel eyes gleaming with mirth, and raised a hand to dangle the key in front of Alfred's nose. "You've earned it."

Alfred's eyes crossed as he stared at the keys, and uncrossed to stare at his friend, still not sure if he was hearing right. Lovino quirked a brow at him, expression taking on an irritated edge.

"Don't just stare like an idiot, idiot. Do you or don't you, dammit?"

Ah, _there_ was the Lovino he was used to. Alfred grinned, snatching the keys. "Yes!" He cleared his throat, repeating more calmly. "I mean, yes, I'd love to, thank you Lovino. But are you sure you don't want to go first?"

Lovino smiled a little wryly, lifting a shoulder. "I... I'm not sure I'm ready, bastard. But...she deserves a ride. She's been waiting a long time. And I want you to...break her in for me."

Alfred squealed in excitement (shut up, it was totally manly) and just _barely_ managed to refrain from kissing his friend/study partner/unrequited love interest, before bounding over to the driver's side of the beautiful, gorgeous, freshly-restored Alfa Romeo that sat waiting. He grasped the handle of the door, and paused, looking back at Lovino. "Are you _sure-"_

"Just get the fuck in the damn car, idiot!" Lovino barked, and Alfred grinned, sliding into the driver's seat. She started like a dream, and purred like a kitten, and he rolled down the window to shout,

"I'll just take her once 'round the block, okay?"

"Go _on_, bastard!" Lovino shouted back, rolling his eyes, and threw open the doors. Alfred laughed, ducking back into the car, and drove out into the shining sunlight beyond.

He hadn't even made it all the way around the block.

Alfred groaned again.

And the funny thing? The moment he'd gone through those doors, he'd promised himself that as soon as he got back, he was going to confess. Because it was high time that Lovino knew, and he'd been putting it off long enough. There were always reasons- Lovino was always going out on dates, sometimes three or four times a week; he didn't want to ruin their friendship, they were busy with school, up until a year ago he hadn't even been _legal._ Not that he'd been expecting to have sex right away or anything, but the point was that he wasn't even legally an adult, and he felt like Lovino saw him as a kid half the time, since he was sixteen when their friendship started, and Lovino was _twenty._ But now he was nineteen, and that was pretty much grown-up, and he and Lovino would be graduating in a year (although they were planning on pursuing a post-graduate education, together, too). And even though Lovino went on dates he hadn't seen the same girl twice in over a year, and Alfred had noticed that his dates had become fewer and farther apart until he hadn't dated anyone at _all_ since about two months ago; and so he and Lovino spent almost all their free time together now, which he was kind of hoping was a good sign. He was still worried that it might strain their friendship, but he and Lovino were close enough now that he was pretty sure that even if Lovino rejected him they could still be friends. Because he wanted Lovino in his life, even if he couldn't be together with him the way he wanted. Lovino deserved to know he was loved, even if Lovino couldn't feel the same way. And finishing the Giulietta had seemed to be the perfect opportunity to finally tell him.

But now that's all ruined and if Lovino doesn't kill him then he's at least going to never want to see him again, and Alfred is going to die of a broken heart.

(He _almost_ wished that the crash had given him amnesia so he wouldn't know what had been lost in those few seconds. But then he wouldn't remember Lovino, and wouldn't have all the wonderful memories of the time they'd spent together, and having loved him for so long; and that would _suck_.)

Alfred couldn't help it- he started to cry. Which kind of sucked, 'cause he couldn't really move and his head was stuck in one position, so his tears ran down his temples and soaked into his hair and that tickled, and his nose was running and that made it itch and he couldn't do anything about it 'cause the doctor had told him not to touch his face for at least a few hours until the numbing agents wore off 'cause he might accidentally tear his stitches open, otherwise.

"Knock knock~." Came a familiar voice at the door, and out of the corner of his eye he could see his father Francis stride inside. "We've come to- _merde!"_ He lifted a hand to his chest, gaping in shock.

Alfred swallowed his tears, and cleared his throat as best he could. "Hi, dad."

"Get out of the way, you bloody idiot, you're blocking the door." Came his other father's irritated voice, and Francis was pushed aside to allow Arthur and his brother to enter, as well. They both stopped short as soon as they saw him, gaping in similar fashion as Francis had.

The corner of Alfred's mouth quirked up a little wryly. "That bad, huh?"

"It's...it's...uh, it's not very good, son." Arthur stammered, in an attempt at tactfulness.

"You look like you were in a fight with a meat grinder, and lost." Francis stated frankly as he looked his son over."Badly."

"_Dad!_" Matthew hissed, nudging him.

"I'm only saying what we're all thinking." Francis sniffed. "The boy's a _mess_."

"Ignore your father, Alfred." Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "We came as soon as we heard. We spoke to the doctor outside, who's informed us that you're mostly alright. Although that's rather hard to believe considering..." he indicated Alfred's condition with a vague wave of the hand, staring distractedly; then realized what he was doing, and pulled it back, clearing his throat a little awkwardly. "Well."

"Al, are-" Matthew started concernedly, only to be cut off by their father.

"What your father _means_ to say, is that we're glad you're alright." Francis interrupted breezily, not noticing his younger son's attempt to speak. "We were terribly worried."

"Do you feel alright, Al?" Matthew asked quickly in order to get a word in edgewise.

"Everything hurts." Alfred confessed. His heart hurt more than anything else, but he couldn't say that without having to explain why, and that was a conversation he didn't want to have right now.

"I'm sorry." His brother smiled sympathetically. "Do you want-"

"I would have baked you something to cheer you up," Arthur said, seeming not to realize his youngest had been talking, "but there wasn't time."

_Thank heaven for small mercies,_ Alfred thought. His father's cooking could be considered a health hazard on the best of days.

"Thank heaven for that." Francis frowned, waving a hand to indicating his injured son. "His condition's bad enough without adding _food poisoning_ to everything else."

"Nothing's wrong with my cooking." Arthur scowled back.

"Arthur, darling, _everything's_ wrong with your cooking." Francis informed him, and turned to Alfred again before Arthur could respond. "Your father may not have had time to bring you a present, but have no fear- your _darling_ Papa has come prepared. Look!" He held up a bag that Alfred hadn't noticed he'd been carrying. "I brought you some things to keep you occupied while you're here."

Alfred and Matthew exchanged a wary glance, well aware of the nature of their 'papa's usual idea of 'occupied'.

"Here are some condoms," Francis started, pulling a box out of the bag and setting it on the table next to the bed. "chocolate-flavoured." He winked, and Arthur started sputtering in the background. "Just let your papa know if you need more. And there are several different flavours of lubricant," he arranged them artistically around the box of condoms, adding conspiratorially, "I noticed several pretty nurses on our way in, I'm sure you'll have _plenty _to keep you occupied- ah, but your face!" He frowned, glancing over at his son in the bed, who was gaping at him, horrified embarrassment having rendered him speechless, and added thoughtfully, "Well, you could play up the pity angle, I suppose. But if that doesn't work, I've brought you several interesting and effective toys-"

"OHMYGOD _DAD!"_ Alfred finally yelped, wishing he had somewhere to hide.

"YOU CAN'T BRING THINGS LIKE _THAT_ INTO A HOSPITAL!" Arthur roared, finding his voice. "PUT THAT AWAY!"

"Papa, I don't think Al-" Matthew tried to reason, only to be interrupted yet again as their father scoffed.

"Nonsense, don't be ridiculous." Francis waved dismissively. "He'll need _something_ to entertain him while he's in the hospital."

"NOT THINGS LIKE _THAT,_ HE DOESN'T!" Arthur howled, flailing about furiously as he yelled. "He's _far_ too young!"

"Oh _please_. It never bothered _you_, and-"

His fathers continued to argue, with Matthew trying, ineffectively, to mediate. It quickly escalated to a shouting match, which drew nurses, and a few minutes later they were escorted out by hospital security- even Matthew, who hadn't done anything in particular to deserve it.

Honestly, Alfred was a little relieved. He loved his family, for all their disfunction, and would do anything for them; but right now he just wanted to be alone. Between the accident and his injuries and his broken heart and his family's attempt at consolation, it had been a long day. He was exhausted. He closed his eyes.

"You look like shit, bastard."

And opened them again. "Lovino?" He squawked, and flailed around in his bed in an attempt to get up, forgetting that he had only one good limb and a number of injuries. For all of two seconds, anyway. "Ow ow _owww_." He hissed, writhing in pain. He heard Lovino swear, and soon his friend was by the bedside, holding him steady.

"What the _fuck_ are you trying to do, idiot?" Lovino yelled, sounding furious. "Kill yourself _faster?"_

"Lovino?" Afred repeated, staring at him in disbelief, unable to believe that he was really there.

"I can't _believe_ you." Lovino snarled, visibly trembling. "I just can't _believe-" _He let go of Alfred to pace around the room, flailing incoherently.

"Listen, Lovino, I know you're mad at me and I totally understand but-"

"Damn right I'm mad at you, bastard!" Lovino spun to point at him, eyes livid."You made me a _promise,_ asshole, and you're not allowed to break it, dammit!"

"W-what?" Alfred wracked his brains for any promises he might have made regarding the Giulietta. Lovino strode forward to pull himself up on the bed, straddling Alfred and planting both hands on either side of the blond's head, staring intimidatingly into his face.

"L-lovino?" Alfred said uncertainly, eyes wide.

"You fucking _promised_ me, bastard. You_ promised." _Lovino's voice broke, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to Alfred's. Alfred could feel him shaking. "Y-you promised you'd, you'd n-never leave m-me. You can't, Alfred, you _can't_." Hot tears dripped onto Alfred's cheeks, and this time they weren't his own.

"L-lovino?" With his one good hand, Alfred tentatively cupped the back of his friend's head, blinking in bewilderment. "What do you-"

Lovino pulled back to hover over him again, shifting his weight onto one arm and scrubbing at his eyes with the other. "I've been sitting outside for over an hour." He confessed, voice hoarse. When he lowered his arm, Alfred noticed that his eyes were puffy and red, like he'd done a lot of crying recently, far more so than they could have been from the tears he was shedding now. Lovino's eyes slid to the side as he continued. "I didn't- I heard the ambulance, and when you didn't come back... I went looking for you, and saw the car...and...I didn't know what to think, I was so fucking scared." He swallowed, hard, his tears coming fast and unheeded. "When I got to the hospital, I didn't... they told me you were in a coma, and I... I don't remember what they said after that, I, they wouldn't let me in, they said you were in surgery, I- God, I was _so fucking scared_. I went to the chapel down the hall, and I-" he choked back a sob, "I prayed _so hard_, and finally the nurse came and told me I could see you but your dads were in the way, and, and," he broke off, sitting back on his knees on either side of Alfred's stomach and digging the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"Lovino," Alfred reached up, touching Lovino's arm. "Lovino, I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm not going to die."

Lovino peeked through his fingers. "Y-you're not?"

"No." Alfred insisted. "I'm okay. It wasn't serious, really. It just looks bad."

"But the coma-"

"I was only in the coma for a little bit, and the doctor said I checked out fine. Not even a concussion." Alfred reassured him. "Just some broken bones and bruises and stitches. I might have a couple of scars, but the doctor said in a year or two they should be barely even noticable."

Lovino lowered his hands, looking him over, looking hopeful but dubious. "But..."

"I know it _looks_ bad." Alfred said a little wryly. "But I'm okay, really. In a couple weeks I'll be as good as new."

"Oh." Lovino said, a little weakly, and collapsed down onto him.

"Lovino?" Alfred asked, concerned.

"I, I thought I'd lost you." Lovino's muttered, voice muffled in Alfred's chest. "It was like mom and dad and grandpa all over again."

Alfred rubbed his friend's back comfortingly. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Good." Lovino said, lifting his head.

And then Lovino kissed him.

Suddenly Alfred wished that his lips weren't so numb, because he'd been waiting for this for a _long_ time, and it was a shame that he could barely feel it. Then Lovino's tongue brushed his, and _oh_, he could feel _that_, _fuck _yes; and when Lovino made to pull back a few moments later, Alfred whined, trying to follow him. Lovino chuckled, and obliged him with a few lingering strokes of tongue, before he finally broke the kiss.

"Wow." Alfred blinked, a little dazedly. "D...does this mean you're not mad about the Giulietta? I thought, I thought you'd never want to see me again. Not that I'm complaining, I'm really glad you're here, but I'm a little confused."

"Well," Lovino started. "I-"

"I'm sorry boys, but visiting hours are ov- _Oh._" Out of the corner of his eye, Alfred could see the pretty doctor with the flower in her long, golden-brown hair staring at them with an oddly delighted little smile on her face; a smile that broadened exponentially when her gaze lit on the bedside table- which still bore the 'gifts' his father had so _kindly_ brought him. Recalling her professionalism she straightened, clearing her throat and turning to Lovino. "Actually, why don't you go ahead and stay the night with your boyfriend. I'm sure he could use some," she glanced at the table again, lips quirking up, "_comforting_ after his ordeal. And don't worry," she added, green eyes taking on an odd glint as she fingered the frying pan she was carrying for some unknown reason, "I'll make _sure_ you aren't disturbed." With that assurance she left, closing the door tightly behind her.

"That was weird." Alfred blinked in suprise at the place she had been, and then turned to the man who was straddling him, and whose tongue he had so recently been enjoying. "I wonder why she thought I was your boyfriend."

Lovino blushed, looking down. "Uhm, I...th-they wouldn't let me in b-because I wasn't family, so I...I t-told them..." he blushed deeper, muttering almost unintelligibly, "ItoldthemIwasyourb-boyfriend."

"Oh." Alfred blinked again, processing this. "Are you? I mean, would you like to be? I mean," he continued when Lovino didn't respond, "you did sort of kiss me there, so I was wondering. I wouldn't mind if you do, 'cause I really kind of love you; have for a long time now and-"

Lovino kissed him again, and Alfred _really_ wished the doctors had run out of numbing agents 'cause he was _seriously_ missing out, here; but once again Lovino's tongue was making up for the loss.

"So," He panted hopefully, once Lovino had pulled away and he'd regained his breath, "is that a yes?"

Lovino stared at him incredulously. "Are you an idiot?" Then he rolled his eyes. "No wait, of course you are. _Yes_, Alfred. I'll... be your boyfriend."

"_YES!_" Alfred whooped, punching the air with his one good arm. "This is great, Lovino! But are you sure you're not mad at me about the car? 'Cause I was pretty sure you were going to kill me, or at least hate me forever and that would be _awful _'cause I've loved you for a _really_ long time and if you never wanted to see me again I think I'd die, but-"

Lovino kissed him again, and really that was sort of becoming a theme for today, but Alfred had no complaints, 'cause he'd be perfectly happy if it became a theme for the rest of their lives.

"You know," he murmured once Lovino pulled away again, "I can't wait 'til-" A hand covered his mouth, cutting him off.

"Could you be quiet for _one minute?"_ Lovino half-growled, exasperated and amused. "I'm trying to tell you something, idiot." Alfred nodded, and Lovino let go of his mouth, taking a deep breath to steady himself. "I've been meaning to say this for a while." He started. "But, I didn't know _how_, and I couldn't think of the words, and I wasn't...I wasn't sure. If I was ready." He glanced at Alfred to see if he was following, and Alfred tried to nod encouragingly. His neck brace got in the way, but Lovino seemed to understand anyway. "I had a lot of time to think while I was waiting, and...grandpa's car is...just a car." He fisted his hands in Alfred's shirt, and continued determinedly,

"It used to be...like, if I didn't touch it, if I left it the way he had it, it was like...he wasn't gone. And I never touched it because...because I wasn't ready to let him go. But, working on grandpa's car with you... I...it helped me realize some things. Grandpa's dead. He's not coming back. And...restoring the Giulietta with you helped me say goodbye. And I...I think," he straightened his shoulders, looking Alfred in the eyes, "I _know, _that I'm ready to move on. To live my life again. And..." his hand found Alfred's good one, squeezing it, as he added steadily despite the deep flush spreading across his face, "I want to live it with you."

"Really?" Alfred breathed, eyes shining.

Unable to speak, Lovino nodded, lips twitching up in an answering smile.

"Oh." Alfred swallowed, unable to believe this was happening, and giddy with excitement and joy and happiness and a million other _wonderful_ emotions, he started to babble. "That, that's great. Wonderful. I, yes. Have I told you I love you? 'Cause I totally do. For...for a really long time now, actually, and can we get married? I mean, after we graduate, of course, but I really want to marry you and be with you for the rest of my life, our lives, and do you believe in heaven or reincarnation? 'Cause I think we should get that straightened out beforehand, 'cause it would suck if one of us went to heaven and the other was reincarnated and we had to wait a _whole lifetime_ to be together again, and I was thinking-"

He was delighted to notice he was starting to get some feeling back in his face, 'cause this time when Lovino kissed him he could feel the warmth of the lips moving against his, and even though the stitches and the bruises were starting to ache and sting it was _totally_ worth it, so much more than worth it, he'd suffer a _million_ car crashes if only Lovino would keep kissing him, but that would upset Lovino so he probably shouldn't.

"I love you too, bastard." Lovino murmured, when he finally pulled away. "And I'll marry you, and we can spend our lives together, and...everything you said."

The power of Alfred's smile could have kept the entire hospital running for a _month_. Lovino _loved_ him! They were going to get married and grow old together and then afterlives and _everything! _"I really want to kiss you," he said, beaming, "but I can't move my neck. So could you kiss me again, please, Lovino?" Lovino blushed, but chuckled, smiling as he leaned down to nuzzle his nose.

"Love you, Alfred."

"Love you too, Lovino. And I always will."

"You'd better, bastard. 'Cause I, I'll always love you, too." Lovino said, and kissed him again.

* * *

><p><em>AN: And they did. Lovino did end up spending the night. It turned out that the Giulietta wasn't as badly damaged as you might have expected, and the boys ended up restoring it <strong>again<strong>, with some modifications. Nobody at the University was terribly surprised when they announced their engagement, and although their respective families were rather blindsided at first, they quickly grew used to the idea. They graduated with honours and went on to pursue their Masters in the same field- Aerospace Engineering. _

_They're still debating afterlives, but they both agree that no matter which they choose, they want to be together. And no-one who knows them thinks they'll have anything to worry about on that score. _


End file.
